


thou wast not born for death

by downthedarkpath



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cyberpunk, Fluff, Futuristic, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Science Fiction, Space Ships, sci fi, space, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: George stares at the window above him.The moon is awfully bright tonight, round and full and so close it feels like George could reach out and touch it. He almost does, lifting his arm and stretching his fingertips to splay out on the glass. He imagines holding it in his hand, so cold it’ll burn, turning his blood to little more than ice crystals lodged within his veins.
Relationships: Dream/George - Relationship, dream & sapnap, sapnap & george
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. immortal bird

**Author's Note:**

> title from [ode to a nightingale](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44479/ode-to-a-nightingale) by keats because I love poetry can you tell I love poetry
> 
> *this one is one of my favourites as well, the title is from verse 7!
> 
> tags are susceptible to change as I'm not quite sure where this is going to end up :)

George stares at the window above him.

The moon is awfully bright tonight, round and full and so close it feels like George could reach out and touch it. He almost does, lifting his arm and stretching his fingertips to splay out on the glass. He imagines holding it in his hand, so cold it’ll burn, turning his blood to little more than ice crystals lodged within his veins.

He hears the doors hiss shut. Dream and Sapnap, returned from a hunting trip. Their noise is infectious, burrowing under his bedroom door and simply refusing to leave. He hopes they’ll have returned with something more than rabbit hide and grains of goddamned space dust in their pockets this time.

There’s a heavy clatter as one of them drops a knife or a gun, and then the sort of giggles that only Dream makes when Sapnap’s done something stupid. 

George listens to Dream hiss under his breath, “Shh! You’ll wake George up!”

Sapnap laughs too, much louder than Dream. “He’s been asleep for like, three days now. He needs to wake up soon.”

“Maybe,” Dream starts to say, before cutting off into hiccuping wheezes. “Maybe he’s gone into hibernation.”

George sighs and rolls out of his bunk. The other two will need someone to prepare the food anyway, and Sapnap is right. He should get up soon.

He presses his index finger to the scanner to activate the doors, stepping out into the main room when they slide open. Dream and Sapnap look up at his entrance, and George watches as Sapnap immediately tries to stifle another laugh.

George picks at the ratty sweatpants he’s been wearing for three days. Dream bites his lip, like he’s unsure what quite to say. “Did you two manage to find anything worthwhile this time?” he asks, before either of them can say anything.

Sapnap lifts up his pack, placing it on the table and unlocking it. “Sure. We found a whole deer carcass. I haven’t seen deer in years, George.”

“A whole one?”

“Well,” Dream says, making a face. “It was missing the legs and the head, but most of the abdomen was salvageable. It should last us a week, at least. But we’ll be docking at a market before then, so we can stock up anyway.”

“Which market?” Sapnap asks, leaving his pack. George moves forward to unpack it, lifting out several wrapped cuts of meat. “I didn’t know there was a market planet on our flight path.”

“MD-38,” Dream says. He starts to unpack his own bag, adding the contents to the pile George is creating. “It’s lesser known. Kinda sketchy.”

“Sapnap should fit right in then,” George says.

Sapnap gasps. “ _ George! _ ”

Dream chuckles. He finishes emptying his pack, and begins to transfer some of the meat cuts to their stasis-chamber. “It should have everything we need, though. Supplies, food, tools. We can finally repair the lazers.”

“You think they’ll have the parts?” Sapnap asks.

“Sure,” Dream says, “if anywhere did, it’d be MD-38. This ship was built there, after all.”

George frowns, pausing as he places the last cut of meat into stasis. “Really?”

Dream glances at him. “Yeah. Did I never tell you?”

Sapnap purses his lips. “No. You didn’t.”

“Mm. Sorry,” Dream shrugs. “We’ll be docking there in the next few sol-sets. We can probably afford to stay for a bit. They have cheap docking. We’ll do our repairs there.”

“How cheap?” George asks. He closes the door to the stasis-chamber, and then pulls up their joint credit balance on his comm-strap. The total makes him grimace.

Dream looks at his face, and then accesses the credit balance on his own comm-strap. He makes a face to mirror George’s. “We… can probably afford it.”

“Market planets have cheap labour going all the time,” Sapnap says, “if we get desperate.”

“Right,” George says. He closes the credit balance, trying to put it out of his mind. If Dream thinks they can manage it, then they will. “I guess I’ll see what I can do with that deer, then.”

“I’m going to recalibrate the engines,” Sapnap says. “They’ve been playing up lately. I think it’s the algae-pool messing shit up, but I’m not sure why.”

“We need to figure that out, then,” Dream says. “The algae-pool was way too expensive to have it break the rest of our systems.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be in the engines if you need me, okay?”

“Okay,” George says. Dream nods, he sees it out the corner of his eye, and Sapnap leaves, already tapping away at things on his comm-strap. 

Dream slides onto the counter surface next to where George stands. He has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the upper cabinets, curling his back into a perfect curve. “So, Georgie, what are you making?”

George shrugs. He pulls out some of the astro-powdered food they’d stocked up with for emergencies. Old-Earth mashed potato, and Molteran beans. “I guess I’m making this,” he says, holding them up so Dream can see. He pulls his mouth into such a disgusted shape that George has to laugh.

“Molteran beans?” Dream asks, “really?”

“There’s not much else to choose from,” George says. He retrieves the cut of deer he’d left out of the stasis-chamber. “We’re kinda scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’ll have to make do.”

“Yeah, but… Molteran beans?”

“Like I said, Dream,” George says. He tears the top off of the bean package. “Make do.”

“Sapnap would agree with me,” Dream says. He kicks his heels against the lower cupboards, and the door on one of them slips as the hinges creak. 

“Sapnap’s busy,” George says. “And now you need to fix the cupboards, too. Well done, Dream.”

“Meh meh meh,” Dream mutters, sliding off of the counter top. “I’ll fix it later. I’m going to check the flight paths and stuff.”

“They don’t need checking,” George says, turning to glare at him. “You could be productive and fix what you’ve broken, or help me make dinner for the three of us.”

“Or I go hole up in the control room,” Dream says.

“Or you don’t.”

Dream just grins at him, starting to slink out of the main room and into the control room. “Just ping us when you’re done, George.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure, you do,” Dream sing-songs as he leaves too. George would love to glare, but he can’t help but smile.

* * *

The cut of deer isn’t bad. Sure, the chemicals inside the carcass react with the heat of the oven and turn the flesh blue, but George supposes that’s normal for space scavenged meat. 

Dream complains bitterly about the Molteran beans. George refuses to let him leave their table until he finishes all of them. Sapnap almost chokes with how hard he laughs. 

“George, come on.”

“Dream, please,” he says, almost pityingly. “We can’t afford to waste food right now.”

Sapnap snorts. “Yeah, Dream. Just eat it.”

“This is practically torture,” Dream says. He slides a fork around his plate, pushing the beans around. “In fact, I’m fairly sure it counts as a war crime in some planet systems.”

“Oh, yeah? What systems?” George says, raising an eyebrow.

“Planets ravaged by force-feeding?” Sapnap suggests. 

George laughs. “Then I guess I’m a war criminal. Just eat the beans, please.”

Dream huffs. He piles up a forkful of them and glares at it. “George, you can’t make me.”

“I’m not making you,” George says. Dream drops the fork and starts to stand up. “I’ll just be really, really upset if you don’t.”

“You’re being ungrateful, Dream,” Sapnap says, making a sort of pouting face at him. “They’re just beans. And George totally slaved over this meal for us.”

Dream glares at them both. Then he chokes down a forkful of the beans. George is fairly sure he’s playing it up, but the amount of gagging Dream is putting on does make anxiety spike in his stomach. 

“Dream, stop. You’re making George worried now,” Sapnap says. He’s so clearly teasing, and Dream stops to laugh as well. Beneath the table, his toes knock into George’s ankle.

“Sorry, George,” Dream says. He scoops another forkful of Molteran beans. “I’m just not hungry anymore.”

George bites his lip. “Ugh. Fine. You don’t have to finish them all. But if you’re hungry later, you’re not having anything else.”

“Yes, mom,” Dream drawls. He drops the fork and immediately slides out of the chair, piling their plates up and dumping them on the counter top. He drops a kiss on George’s hair as he passes, and George dutifully ignores the flush that rises in his cheeks.

“Hey!” Sapnap calls when Dream ignores him. “Where’s my kiss, Dreamy?”

Dream pauses in the doorway to the control room and grins. “I don’t know. You’ll have to come and get it.”

George drops his face into his hands as Sapnap processes Dream’s words and then tears through the ship after him. “Just don’t break anything!” he shouts, knowing it’s probably useless to even try at this point. He’ll just have to make them repair anything they do destroy.

* * *

The next sol-set passes quickly. George busies himself in the control room, making sure that the ship stays on it’s automated path. Dream and Sapnap disappear to the engine room, trying to fix the algae-pool. At least, George assumes that’s what they’re doing. There’s a lot of bashing and clanging and not much reparations, as far as he can tell.

Sapnap barely leaves the engine rooms. The one time George ventures down there, he’s wedged beneath the coolant tank and whacking shit with a hammer. George leaves him to it, deciding that Dream can help him out or he can stay there.

Dream appears every now and then, mostly to adjust the flight path (even though George is one hundred per cent capable of doing it himself), or collect tools from the upper decks of their ship. He always leaves more mess, trailing after him like his own personal hurricane.

George elects to ignore them - if they need something from him, he has no doubt that he’ll hear about it. Besides, he enjoys manually flying the ship. The automatic flight paths are all well and good but nothing beats having the controls at his fingertips. Dream had spent so long configuring their auto-flight interface from scratch that he takes any instance where it’s not in use as a personal slight, so it’s rare that he’s even allowed at the control deck, let alone to use it. 

He enjoys the solitude sometimes. Just him, and space, and a whole lot of shit out there. It’s nice sometimes, in a way that Sapnap and Dream don’t completely understand. 

They’re getting closer to MD-38. George feels unnecessarily apprehensive about it.

They don’t usually go to the market planets - Dream likes to hunt, and Sapnap is used to scavenging, so they never want for resources regardless - but when they do, George always feels out of place. It’s just another stark reminder that, whilst Dream and Sapnap grew up on-world, he spent his childhood jetting about in ships. He barely knows planetwide etiquette, and relying on Dream and Sapnap to get him around has always been vaguely humiliating.

He sighs. He adjusts the fuel processors and listens to the engines chug as the gears change. The oil pistons will need replacing soon, if the sound is anything to go by. Dream won’t be happy to hear that.

There’s another cut of space deer in the stasis-chamber. Their flight path is as accurate as it can be. There’s a million miles of space outside his window, and George feels something akin to contentment settle within his chest. 

* * *

“George!”

George jolts awake. Fuck. He must have fallen asleep at the control desk. There’s probably an imprint of the button deck on his forehead that Sapnap will make fun of him for.

“In here!” he calls back, rubbing at his eyes. 

Dream pulls open the control room door, leaning inside the door jamb and grinning. “Did I wake you?”

“A little,” George says. He shrugs, almost guiltily, at Dream. “Hey, did you sort the algae pool out yet?”

Dream’s face falls. “No. Sapnap’s been trying, but… He’s been researching those aqua-engines. Talking about installing those, instead. I think the algae pool is beyond saving at this point.”

“We can barely afford fuel as it is,” George says, “where are we going to get the credit to afford the aqua-engines?” He’s looked into them too: hydrofuel is one of the newest technologies on the market, and it would be cool as fuck to install them around their own ship. It’s also one of the most expensive, and water is an exclusive commodity to spacefarers. 

“I tried to mention it,” Dream says. He purses his lips, the corners of his grimace disappearing beneath the half-mask he wears. He steps more fully into the control room, sitting in the second chair at the control deck and resting his chin in his hands. “I guess we can look on MD-38, but I don’t want to get his hopes up. And I don’t even know if our ship is compatible with the mass-produced editions.”

“So… what? We’d have to engineer custom ones?”

“Possibly,” Dream says. “It wouldn’t… I mean, it wouldn’t be impossible to achieve. I guess.”

“Just highly unlikely,” George concludes. If they can scrape up enough credit to afford the pieces, he’s sure he, Dream, and Sapnap could rig it together well enough. “I can put it on the wishlist,” he says, already pulling the document up on his comm-strap. “I think that’s all we can hope for, for now.”

Dream nods. “Yeah. You’re probably right. I guess I’ll go tell Sapnap.”

“Call him up here,” George suggests. It’s getting to the end of whatever counts for day. “We’re on track to dock at MD-38 by midsol.”

“Alright,” Dream says. He sounds slightly mollified with that knowledge, like maybe everything isn’t so bad after all. He starts to call through to Sapnap’s comm-strap, angling the holo-cam so George is in the view as well.

“Oh, my God,” George says, once Sapnap picks up. “Did you take a bath in a vat of oil, or something?”

He hears Dream stifle a laugh, and Sapnap glares at him. “George,” he says, reproachfully. “I’ve been busy all day, trying to fix our engines. And what have you done? Fallen asleep at the control desk?”

“That’s not  _ all  _ I’ve done.”

“Okay, come on, now,” Dream interrupts. “Sapnap, can you come up to the deck for a sec? We’ll be docking at MD-38 soon.”

“Sure,” Sapnap says. “I’ll make sure to give George a big greasy hug, too.”

George bares his teeth through the comm-strap. “If you come within ten feet off me, I will eject you and leave you to the space scavengers.”

“At least they might value my presence,” Sapnap retorts. Dream glares at them both and shuts down the comm-link, reaching out to cuff George round the head.

“You two are ridiculous,” he informs George, before standing up and stalking back to the main room. George watches his back and grins.

* * *

MD-38 turns out to be pretty much what George expected.

The docking process is standard for most sub-security planets - easy check in, no ID requirements, and cheap lodging. Clearing the barriers is just as quick, so much so that George feels like he’s not even supposed to be there. 

They pass through the station quickly, joining the crowd and spilling out onto the street. Sapnap trips on a loose path-lamp, knocking the bulb out of it. George laughs, catching him by the elbow, while Dream stalks ahead. 

Outside, the market streets are lit by lanterns strung between the buildings and stalls, as well as path-lamps installed along the main highstreet. The buildings aren’t skyscrapers, but they’re still tall enough that George has to look up to see the roofs, and every brick seems to be covered in a generous layer of grime. There are street vendors yelling in a variety of languages - half of which George doesn’t recognise, let alone speak. The air is thick with factory smog and dust, churned up by the vehicles and crowds weaving their way around each other. It sticks on George’s clothes and in the back of his throat. 

Dream leads their group ahead, walking along like he owns the place. In his boots and coat, with an atom gun strapped to his side, looking for all the part a soldier at war, George could be fooled into thinking that he does. He certainly wouldn’t want to question it, at that.

Sapnap looks less at home. He’s holding an atom gun too, but he’s much less comfortable with it than Dream, and it shows. His coat is just a bit too long as well, covering the bottoms of his palms instead of stopping perfectly at the end of his wrists, like Dream’s does.

If Sapnap’s coat is too big for him, then George’s had no hope at all. He has to be mindful not to tread on the hem every time he takes a step. He doesn’t have an atom gun - they had only been able to afford two when Dream bought them - but he does have an old crossbow at his side. He, at least, is miles better with an arrow than a ray bullet. 

“Where are we going first?” George asks. He usually has to jog to keep up with Dream; he and Sapnap tend to lag behind as they take in every planet they travel to. Dream seems merely indifferent to it all.

“To see an old friend,” Dream says. He veers off down an alleyway, away from the crowd and lights of the main highstreet. George shuffles slightly closer to Sapnap, tightening his grip on his crossbow.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Sapnap asks. He’s looking around nervously, and George is relieved to know that he isn’t the only one unsure about this.

He knows that, in a pinch, Dream would likely make it out okay. His combat and athleticism is unmatched. Sapnap could probably make it too - he’s scrappy and snappy and unafraid. George knows he would have to rely on them to back him. Sure, he can shoot an arrow, but he’s no good at close range, and he jumps at shadows in the dark.

“Sure it’s safe,” Dream says. He turns back, glancing at them over his shoulder. His gaze softens. “I promise. This guy wouldn’t hurt us. He’s probably got muscle stationed all along this alleyway, anyway. He’s safe.”

Sapnap makes a face at George. “We trust you, Dream. But, um, if things do go wrong, I hope you avenge us, yeah?”

It makes Dream laugh. “Neither of you are going to die. Stop being so paranoid.”

George looks at the doorways lining the alley, all covered in rusted locks and splintered wood. “But you would avenge us, right?”

“Sure, I’ll avenge you,” Dream says. “But you’re both going to be fine. Look, we’re nearly there anyway.”

“Where are we nearly at?” George asks. Each building down here looks the same, stretching on and on for what could be miles.

“You’ll see,” Dream says, cryptically. George suppresses the urge to step on Dream’s coattails. Thankfully, Sapnap does it for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof-  
> its been a while. sorry about that.  
> ill post chapter three.... whenever I end up writing it, I guess.

They arrive at a rundown shack, staffed by a guy in a blue hoodie. He’s sprawled over the counter, looking half asleep. George wonders just how much business they get down here - he can barely remember the steps they took to get here, and they’re too far away from any of the main street lights to benefit from their glow. Everything is foreboding and dark and completely unknown.

“Is this it?” Sapnap asks. Dream nods, gesturing for them to stay a few steps back.

George frowns, but he falters as Dream approaches the stall. Sapnap waits with him, spinning his atom gun from one hand to the other impatiently.

“Dream?” the guy says, looking up when Dream is just a few feet away. “You here for Bad?”

Dream nods. “Yeah. Is he here?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll go find him,” the guy says. He slips off of the countertop and disappears behind a door that George didn’t realise was there. 

Sapnap steps up beside Dream. George watches his sticky fingers, watches his eyes calculating the value of everything displayed in the shack. “Who was that?”

“Skeppy,” Dream says. “He’s friends with the guy I came here to see.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about them before now?” George asks. He steps forward too, just a half-step behind Sapnap. He feels apprehensive about this. Dream seems on-guard, and he isn’t sure why yet.

Dream chews his lip. “I didn’t wanna lie to either of you. But they have a reputation. I didn’t know if you would have known who they were, and I didn’t want it to colour your first impression of them.”

“Why would that matter?” Sapnap asks. “Who are they?”

Dream shrugs, like he doesn’t really want to answer. “They’re just friends. We’ve known each other for a while.”

George hears the words he doesn’t say: each other is all we have. He knows the importance they hold. “Why are we meeting them now?”

“They might have an item I want,” Dream says. “They collect rare pieces and resell them.”

Sapnap inhales. “What sort of pieces, Dream?”

“What?” George asks. Sapnap sounds like he’s finally clued in to what Dream is saying, and George isn’t sure what it is. 

“Scavenged items,” Dream explains. “Engine pieces, ship parts. Things like that.”

“Scavenged?” Sapnap scoffs, shaking his head at Dream like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“Sapnap…”

George steps around Sapnap to glare at them both. “What are you talking about?”

“Dream’s brought us to some space pirates,” Sapnap says. His voice is sharp with betrayal, and George doesn’t know why. “They steal and sabotage ships to take and resell the pieces they can salvage for profit. These two are some of the most notable in the galaxy.”

“Sapnap, that’s not true.”

“Dream?” George asks.

“They’re good people,” Dream insists. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t trust them, okay? Just give them a chance.”

Sapnap’s eyes drift from Dream to the stall, full of suspicion. “...Fine. I’ll play nice. But if they bite first?”

“Then you can bite back,” Dream allows. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” George asks. He finds himself stepping slightly closer to Sapnap and hooking his index finger around the string of his bow. 

“I wouldn’t put either of you in danger.”

There are a million and one incidents that attest the opposite. George doesn’t bring any of them up. He watches Dream for a second longer, then turns to Sapnap and watches him too.

Dream always looks so damn self-assured. Cocky and confident and completely full of himself. George hates it; at least, he tries to. Dream’s assuredness has put them in more tight spots than he can count, but it’s also got them out of even more. 

Sapnap just looks grumpy. His brow is furrowed, and he’s holding his atom gun tightly, like he’s prepared to shoot at the very next thing that moves. George wouldn’t exactly be surprised if he did. He’s not sure if he could bring himself to feel regret if Sapnap mis-shot, either. 

He doesn’t realise that Skeppy returns until Dream moves to follow him behind the counter. 

Sapnap starts to say, “Dream-!” before cutting himself off. His fist clenches on the gun.

“Wait here,” Dream tells them. “I’ll be back in five minutes, and you’ll be fine out here. I’ll deal with this.”

Sapnap looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He nods tersely, sighing heavily through his nose and letting Dream follow Skeppy behind the stall and into the doorway. The hall behind seems to suck every bit of light from the atmosphere, and Dream disappears into it until George can’t even see him anymore. 

The door closes. George feels his throat clench up in sync with it. Sapnap clenches and unclenches his fists, scuffing the toes of his boots along the ground.

“You’ll destroy your boots doing that,” George says, but it’s half-hearted. He knows Sapnap won’t stop unless he wants to.

He starts to scrape the leather against the wall restlessly. “I don’t care. Dream is such a fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“What is he thinking, going off with those… those… thieves!” Sapnap exclaims. George doesn’t speak, waiting for Sapnap to continue. “They’re dangerous, does he not see that? Space pirates.  _ Space pirates! _ They’re probably taking him to an executioner's block right now. He’ll come back out missing a head or a hand or something. And then we’ll have to pick up the pieces! He’s so stupid.”

George knows that Dream could take care of himself. He knows Sapnap knows that. He still finds the familiar stirrings of fear and discomfort in his stomach, and he hates them.

“He’ll be fine,” George says. He’s not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Sapnap. “Maybe they really are alright.”

Sapnap doesn’t grace him with a response, but George can read his expression well enough. He stops looking at it after a few seconds, settling against the wall to wait.

Dream is stubborn, so much so that it’s dangerous. Maybe George wouldn’t admit it outright, and especially not to Sapnap, but he is kind of apprehensive. Sapnap’s vehement dislike of Bad and Skeppy is getting to him, and Dream’s self-confidence doesn’t affect anyone but himself.

George would call himself a realist, but sometimes he wonders if he’s little more than a coward.

* * *

Several hours pass. MD-38 spins around and around and the sky darkens. Sapnap hasn’t moved from the wall, and his gaze hasn’t moved from the door.

“Where is he?” George mutters. Sapnap looks over at him, shrugging in the corner of his eye. “There’s no point in both of us being here,” he says. The planet nightlife will be more acceptable than the daytime crowds. “I’m going to see what’s around here.”

Sapnap frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” George says. “I don’t need you or Dream to hold my hand all the time, you know.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“I’ll be fine,” George continues. “I bet I’ll even be back before Dream is. I’ll plot the route into my comm-strap, and it’s not like I can’t contact you if I need to. I can always go back to the ship.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Sapnap says. “What if you make a face at someone and it turns out to be blasphemous in their culture, and you end up starting a planet-wide war just because you don’t know general species manners?”

“Well, you don’t have to jinx it.”

Sapnap huffs. “You can go out if you want, but don’t come complaining to me if you get kidnapped for some stupid thing.”

“I won’t get kidnapped.”

“And remember, don’t offer brass coins to anyone,” Sapnap says, “ _ anyone.  _ They’ll take it as a personal slight. I’d have thought you’d learn that lesson the first time you did it.”

George makes a face at Sapnap. “It only happened twice, you don’t need to keep bringing it up.”

“The point is that it should only have happened once,” Sapnap says, “or not at all!” He sighs, and pulls his atom gun, checking the safety and the barrel before holding it out to George. “But take this. It’ll be more effective than your stupid bow if you do run into trouble.”

“You know I’m no good at shooting ray bullets,” George says. He takes the gun though, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling in his palm. It’s larger than his crossbow, but not as heavy, and it fits uncomfortably between his fingers.

“And what’ll happen if you run out of arrows?” Sapnap asks. “At least if you misfire a ray bullet, I’ll probably hear it to come and save you.”

“Fine,” George says, and then reluctantly, “...thank you.”

“Shut up. Be careful.”

He starts to backtrack down the alleyway. “I will.”

Once out of the alley, away from the smog and dim lights and back on the highstreet, George feels like he can breathe. The steady flow of crowds that had been hanging around the station earlier has slowed, and the queues on the street are dwindling as the day passes.

Now, as the sun sets, the populace retires to behind closed doors, leaving George to peruse the nightlife at will. 

He approaches a market stall. It’s stocking delicate looking crystals and pendants, staffed by a blonde woman with two pink stripes on either of her cheeks. She has flowers growing behind her ears and underneath her fingernails, and vines curling through her hair. Her eyes are too bright for this planet, hazelnut brown and so, so young, and she looks out of place amongst MD-38’s grit.

George runs his fingertip along the front of the stall. It’s wooden, true wood, pockmarked and worn. He doesn’t remember when he last felt wood; everything here is grey and metal and plastic, never homegrown. He glances back up to the girl, to the weeds growing within her, and feels the confines of his body begin to weaken slightly.

“Can I help you?” she asks, and her voice is soft and curious. He can tell that the planet-standard language isn’t her native by the quiet accent she has, but he can’t hear her origin planet within it. Dream would know. Dream would probably speak her language.

“Do you… have anything for protection?” he finds himself asking. 

He doesn’t put stock in charms or omens, none of them do. A ship won’t fly if it’s powered by nothing more than simple belief, and George knows they couldn’t risk assuming otherwise. 

She nods. One of the flowers on her ear comes loose, and a daisy floats down to the counter top, perfect white against dark stained oak. She collects three stones, laying them in the palm of her hand and holding them out to him. “These. Amethyst, obsidian, quartz. They will heal and protect you.”

George wonders what he might need to heal. Then he remembers Sapnap’s ideas about the space pirates, and them sending Dream back without his head, and he grimaces. “How much for all three?”

“Twenty credits,” she says, “twenty five for a bag.”

He pulls up his comm-strap, opening the wallet feature and sending twenty five credits to her strap. She blinks and a rose petal falls, and then she slides the crystals into a black velvet pouch. 

“Thanks,” George says, taking the pouch. There’s a gold drawstring on it, and he pulls it gently, tightening the closure before slipping it into his pocket. If Sapnap sees this, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Thank you,” she says, and the smile she gives him is genuine, even if her brow furrows into a frown. “I hope you can heal well, sir. And I hope your partner does too.”

“My- my partner-?” 

By the time George blinks, the woman and her stall has disappeared entirely, like it was never there to begin with. All that’s left is the velvet pouch in his pocket and a violet petal on the ground, trampled into the dirt like it’s been there forever.


	3. my unfinished symphony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let it be known that i am talking about schuberts unfinished symphony. thanks.

George returns to the alley an hour or so later, pockets laden with trinkets and wires and smudges of engine oil (hidden beneath it all is the velvet pouch, and it almost feels like a fever dream now. He can feel a dandelion seed sprouting beneath his fingernails). His credit score isn't too much lower than he started with, and he didn't have to use Sapnap's atom gun once, so he's counting it as a win.

Sapnap is still waiting outside, and he looks more agitated than when George left him. "Oh, good, you're back," he snaps, and his voice is crisp and angry.

George falters. "Is... is Dream not out yet?"

"No," Sapnap says, almost accusatory. George feels his hackles rise and he has to force them back down, because at least one of them has to be logical now.

"Well, he said he was friends with those guys, right?" he tries, "maybe they just lost track of time."

"Dream would have told us. He's not even answering his comm."

"Maybe it ran out of charge," George says; he knows it's a flimsy excuse even as he says it, because they had spent a long time modifying their comm-straps till they ran on sol-power, not the mainframe circuitry.

Sapnap scoffs, "you and I both know how unlikely that is."

"Well, why are you being snappy at me?" George asks, "this isn't my fault." He tries not to let his frustration bleed into his voice too, but it's a hard task. Sapnap probably hears the tightness in his throat.

"I'm not snapping at you! You're just being stupid!" Sapnap grits out. "You know as well as I do that Dream wouldn't just ignore us. And that the comms wouldn't run out of charge. And that he would have told us if he was staying longer. He'd have asked us to go pick up some shit for him, having us running around like his maids. You know that."

"I'm just trying to suggest things-"

"Just stop, then!" Sapnap shouts. "It's unhelpful. I already know them all."

George falls silent. He wonders just what the fuck those crystals are supposed to do after all, and that it would be really great if they started working soon. He hears Sapnap exhale heavily through his nose, slumping back against the wall like all the energy has been let out of him.

"I'm sorry," he says eventually. "I just... I'm just worried about him."

"I know," George says. He sighs, looking at the sol-set stained bricks around them. If he squints, it almost looks like running blood. "Me too."

It's getting colder now that the sol-set is over. Here in the alleyway, George shivers. Everything looks more menacing in the low light, and the shadows begin to grow teeth.

"You know, maybe we could go inside," Sapnap suggests. He sounds nervous, like he doesn't really want to.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's getting colder out here."

"It is," George agrees, "um, do you think Dream's friends will mind, though?"

Sapnap shrugs. "We have guns. Maybe we won't give them a choice."

George only lasts a minute before he starts giggling. The big bad threats work when Dream does them, but Sapnap just looks like a kid playing dress-up in his dad's clothes. Even the gun he holds is too big for him.

At least it makes Sapnap laugh too. The wrinkles on his forehead smooth out slightly. "Shut up," he says, but it sounds like the ice has broken.

"Come on," George says. "Maybe all their guards have gone to sleep and we'll find Dream waiting for us on their porch."

Sapnap visibly steels himself. George watches the set of his lip tense and his throat flex as he swallows and then pulls out the atom gun. "You ready?" he asks.

"What's the worst that can happen?" George asks. He isn't sure if he's tempting fate or reassuring himself. He finds himself digging into his pocket to brush a finger over the velvet pouch buried at the bottom.

Sapnap grins at him. It looks almost like a threat. He pushes the door open, the same one Dream had disappeared into just hours earlier, and the hallway looks just as horrid and foreboding as it did then. George has to suppress the urge to grab onto Sapnap's hand, lest they lose each other. Sapnap reaches back to hold onto him instead, and George takes hold of his fingertips gratefully.

"You're such a baby," he whispers as Sapnap steps over the threshold. He's treading like he's walking on minefields. Although really, George considers, maybe they are.

"Shut up," Sapnap whispers back.

George isn't even really sure why they're whispering. There's just something about this place, something so oppressive and dark and dreadfully alive, that seems to steal all the words from his mouth. The mould in the corner of the room is breathing.

He wonders how Dream knows these people. He wonders how Dream stands it here, how he seems so at home amongst the grime. George can feel it all on the soles of his shoes and he knows he's never going to get it out.

"Where are we going?" he hisses at Sapnap.

"I don't know," Sapnap replies. He has one hand stuck against the wall, attempting to guide them around blindly. George isn't sure if he's trying to find a door or a light switch.

He wonders if the lights would even work in this place.

There's a scuffle in the corner of the room, and Sapnap automatically turns to it with his gun raised. George feels his lungs stutter out of time, and he isn't sure if he tightens his grip on Sapnap's hand or if Sapnap tightens his grip on him.

There's a long, long minute before George exhales and Sapnap relaxes. "Probably just a rat," George says. He doesn't believe it; no one finds rats this far out, and if they did, it's probably more than just a rat.

"Yeah," Sapnap agrees. He breathes likes he's just run a marathon, and only half lowers the atom gun. "Hopefully."

George doesn't want to think of the implications. He doesn't want to think about what sort of rat mutations could be scurrying around this place, and he especially doesn't want to think about stepping foot in their nests.

"How much further?" George asks. The room seems to be growing slowly lighter the deeper they venture, and he isn't sure whether he should take solace in it or not.

"I don't know," Sapnap says. He sounds afraid, his voice thrumming with anxiety. George hears him inhale once, and then stop dead.

"What?"

"George."

"Sapnap, what? What is it?"

"Don't look down."

George frowns. "Why?"

"Just trust me," Sapnap says. "Don't do it."

"I'm going to do it."

"You'll regret it."

"What are you even talking about?" George asks, "it can't be that bad."

He looks down.

"I did warn you," Sapnap mutters. Caked around his boot is the rotten carcass of some giant bat-like creature. George isn't technically sure what it could be classified as, but he does know that he'd probably have had nightmares about it as a kid.

George grimaces. "What the fuck is that?"

"I've never seen anything like it," Sapnap says. He doesn't sound afraid, which George supposes is good. It means he's free to feel as terrified as he likes.

"Well, get your foot out of it!"

Sapnap lifts his leg slowly, tugging his boot out of the body. He landed right in the abdominal cavity - or at least, in what could be the abdominal cavity. He removes his foot with an awful squelching sort of noise.

"That is so gross," Sapnap says, and he sounds like he's grinning.

"That is disgusting," says George, grimacing at the corpse. "That is actually the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. After you, of course."

"I wish Dream was back," Sapnap says, "he isn't as mean as you are."

"We would have found him faster if you didn't go around stepping in dead animals."

George can see Sapnap's fist twitch as he resists the urge to push him. He seems to settle for saying, "you're such an idiot," and side-stepping around the corpse, pulling George along with him.

"Look," George says. He points to where he thinks ahead could be, "do you see it gets lighter over there?"

"Yeah. Where do you think I'm trying to get to?"

George ignores him. "I mean, what do you think it is? Is it Dream?"

"Maybe," Sapnap says. "Maybe it's a trap. You know, you can't trust space pirates."

"Shut up. I hope it's Dream."

Sapnap is quiet for a moment before he replies. "So do I." He taps a staccato against the barrel of his gun with his fingernail, in time with George's heart, and sighs. "So do I."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked, hope you enjoyed. let me know your thoughts.
> 
> i am working on a second chapter for this right now, but between staying up till 5am and not doing school work, I have very little time or motivation. alas! we move.
> 
> thanks for reading :D take care of yourselves


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